


Prague, Today

by lyryk (s_k)



Category: the unbearable lightness of being
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teresa photographs her face, captures her losing herself, grateful for the barrier of the camera that keeps her from participating, because she knows she’ll never leave Prague if she touches Sabina now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prague, Today

‘Your turn,’ Teresa says, holding out her hand for her camera. Sabina merely looks down at her and smiles, her gaze lingering easily on the bare curve of Teresa’s neck, the gentle swell of her shoulder.  
Teresa flushes without meaning to, slips off the sofa and pulls a robe on. Even Sabina’s robe is sensual: a darkly patterned purple, impossibly silky-smooth to the touch, the antithesis of Teresa’s own familiar blue terrycloth bathrobe. She tightens the belt around her waist before turning back to Sabina.  
This time, the other woman hands over the Nikon. ‘My turn?’ she asks, and Teresa knows she wants to confirm if they’re really going to do this. _I should go,_ she could say. _We’ll resume this some other time._ It would be a lie, but Sabina would understand. And even if she didn’t, it would not matter. Teresa knows all too well that it’s not too long before she’s going to deny herself access to Prague, to her photography. To Sabina. She’ll catch the train to Zurich, or drive her car across the border, if the authorities will let her. If they don’t arrest her, or accuse her of being a spy.  
‘Teresa.’ Sabina gently pushes the camera into her hands, and Teresa closes her hands over it, feeling the weight of it settle familiarly against her palms as Sabina lets go.  
‘Sorry,’ she says, smiling quickly. ‘Got lost for a moment there.’  
Sabina says nothing, just begins to strip with quick, effortless movements, flinging her clothes one by one on the armchair before stretching out on the sofa. ‘Like this?’  
‘Prop your head up on your elbow. Yes, just like that.’ Teresa clicks, focusing on Sabina’s upturned face, the silver pendant nestling in the hollow of her throat. She kneels, bringing their faces level with each other’s, shuffles backward on the carpet until all of Sabina is within the frame. ‘Look away from me,’ she orders. ‘Look at the ceiling. Arm behind your head. That’s it.’  
‘When are you leaving?’ Sabina says, holding her pose obediently as the camera clicks again.  
‘I’m sorry?’  
‘Prague. You’re leaving Prague.’  
‘I don’t know. Soon. Bend your right leg.’  
‘Like this?’  
‘Not quite, it’s a little—here, let me.’ Teresa moves to the sofa, placing her hand on Sabina’s calf to nudge her leg into the position she wants. She’s not surprised when Sabina lets her legs move apart, but is unprepared for the wetness that glistens very patently between the folds of Sabina’s mostly-bare cunt. Unthinkingly, she reaches out to touch the narrow, decorative strip of hair just above Sabina’s clitoris, but stops herself before she makes contact.  
‘I’m sorry,’ she begins, taking a step away from the sofa. ‘I don’t know what I was--’  
‘Yes, you do.’ Sabina’s hand curls around her wrist, guides Teresa’s hand back between her legs, close to that tantalising strip of hair. She’s radiating heat.  
‘I can’t,’ Teresa says. It comes out as barely a whisper, but Sabina gently releases her hand. ‘Okay,’ she says easily. ‘Okay. Do you want to… watch me?’  
Without waiting for Teresa’s answer, she lets her hand slip between her legs. ‘Just watch my face, if you can’t look at what I’m doing,’ she says. ‘Watch my face through the camera.’  
And so Teresa watches, sitting between Sabina’s thighs, the camera obscuring her face from Sabina’s view. Barely a minute passes before Sabina bites her lip and closes her eyes, her head thrown back. Teresa photographs her face, captures her losing herself, grateful for the barrier of the camera that keeps her from participating, because she knows she’ll never leave Prague if she touches Sabina now.  
She breathes in deeply, the heady, salty scent of Sabina wrapping itself around her senses. Denying herself more, because tomorrow, Prague, and her work, and Sabina, will be lost to her.  
Sabina cries out her name, her body shuddering, and the sound shatters Teresa’s resolve like glass breaking gloriously into a thousand fragments.  



End file.
